


A Contract is Only as Good as the Price You Pay

by NamelesslyNightlock, Rabentochter



Series: This Was A Bad Idea (but we know what we're doing) [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Assassin Loki (Marvel), Attempted Murder, Attraction, Blow Jobs, Choking, Enemies to Lovers, Flirting, Hand Jobs, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Manipulation, Poisoning, Pole Dancing, Pole Dancing Loki (Marvel), Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex, Threats of Violence, Tony Stark Is Not Helping, Warning: Loki (Marvel), change of heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 17:42:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20782550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabentochter/pseuds/Rabentochter
Summary: When Loki took the job to kill Tony Stark, he thought it was going to be easy– and he certainly didn’t expect that he would come to actually like his target.





	A Contract is Only as Good as the Price You Pay

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so, this one happened because of an unfortunate typo in a summary on one of our other fics which made it seem like Tony and Loki were together on a plane when they were decidedly... not. And that, of course, meant that we had to write/draw them on a plane, and then somehow we ended up with pole dancing and murder as well because. Why not?
> 
> And thank you to **STARSdidathing** for helping with the title! 
> 
> Art by **Rabentochter**, fic by **NamelesslyNightlock**.

When Loki took the contract, he thought it would be easy. His mark was an American billionaire, and Loki’s client didn’t care how the man died– so long as he was dead, and so long as Loki didn’t get _caught._ And Loki was being paid enough that he didn’t really care either.

He’d worked out the necessary details without any trouble– his target was paranoid, and rather rightfully so considering how many times he had been kidnapped in his youth. Taking him out in his home was an idea immediately discarded, since he had an AI that would watch every move inside the building. The AI was also in the systems at Stark Industries, and Stark never went to any press meetings or other outings without a bodyguard.

Which meant that his most vulnerable time would be when he was in transit. It would be simple enough to stage a car crash of some kind, but Loki was all too aware of how easily forensic analysts could break such an event down. If he struck while Stark was in the _air_, on the other hand…

Well. Stark had a private plane and his pilot and flight attendants were all vetted, but Stark’s plane was a little more _customised_ than was the norm– and his entertainers were never the same twice. It was more than easy to slip himself onto the roster, taking the place of a dancer who was… ah, unfortunately ill.

So, yes. It _should_ have been one of the easiest contracts he’d ever taken, and his plan initially went off without a hitch. The poison was in Stark’s drink and sliding down his gullet five minutes after take-off, and after that? All Loki had to do was act his part until the plane landed in Los Angeles.

However… the flight was long, and Loki hadn’t counted on actually coming to _like _the man.

Like most billionaires of his sort, Stark’s reputation appeared to be fairly spot on. Well, at least at first. He’d settled in with his glass of alcohol and leaned into Loki’s touch as he had walked by– just a simple hand trailing over Stark’s shoulders, just enough of a distraction that Stark didn’t notice the single drop of clear liquid that Loki slipped into his drink.

But while Loki could feel Stark’s gaze as he crossed the room, when he glanced back over his shoulder he could see that Stark appeared almost… disinterested. Oh, he hid it well, but Loki was a master of reading people, and he could see it in the dullness of those brown eyes and the way that Stark’s fingers tapped at the side of his still half-full glass. He supposed Stark was just accustomed to this kind of show, that he probably used such frivolities more to wash away his boredom than out of any true desire.

That should have been pleasing. After all, if Stark was disinterested then Loki would not have to work so hard to remain unsuspicious, but… it touched upon a nerve. It wasn’t that Loki felt insulted by the lack of attention– he had possessed a thick skin regarding such matters from a very young age. Oh no, it merely itched at that part of him that had never been able to back down from a fight, that had never been able to let a challenge go unmet.

Loki had near six hours on this flight.

That was _more_ than enough time to make Stark squirm– and besides. The man only had a day left to live.

It would be cruel not to ensure that he enjoyed at least a part of it.

As he continued to walk, Loki raised his hands to his head and pulled his hair back into a ponytail, stretching his body far more than he needed to compete the task. He had chosen his outfit carefully– shorts which were short enough to leave very little to the imagination, but not quite so tight that everything was on display. They were black as night and designed to emulate leather, though the flexible material allowed for more movement than leather ever would. But his armbands hugged every line of muscle, and the straps that crossed over his stomach and rested just above his hips sat snugly against his body, leaving slices of skin that Loki hoped would draw the gaze as he moved– for though the rest of him was entirely bare, he did hope to keep attention away from his face. He wasn’t wearing any heavy makeup or such which would mark him as suspicious if any witnesses were questioned in the future, but he didn’t want his face so remembered that a forensic sketch would be overly accurate days later.

When Loki reached the pole, he took a moment to run his hands over the smooth metal, familiarising himself with the feel of it, with the width and the way that it felt against his skin. Then he reached up as high as he could, still with his back to Stark, and pressed up on his toes to get higher still—

Then he kicked up with his legs and spun around, hooking one knee around the pole and letting go with his hands, spinning until his back was pressed to cool metal and his hands were outstretched below him. He arched his spine and caught Stark’s eye, letting his gaze roam over him for a moment.

Stark’s glass was empty, his eyes were running over Loki’s body– and Loki’s lips curled into a smirk.

It wasn’t hard to lose himself in his routine, to focus on the pole and the way his limbs carried him through the twists and turns. The music was sensual but slow, and easy to keep in time to. He more than knew his way around a pole– he’d played this part many times, since a club was such a predictable location for a mark to lose their wits, and very few people watched a dancer’s _face_. It had been a while, though, because he had grown bored of how _easy_ it was to catch a person unawares in such places– but that feeling of freedom that dancing gave him? Oh _that_ he had missed.

At first, he hardly took any notice of Stark save to catch his eye every now and then, but as the desire in Stark’s gaze grew Loki found it harder to look away. Stark’s obvious interest urged him on, encouraging him to be daring as he pushed his strength to its very limit, performing for longer than he had originally intended. His muscles screamed but oh, there was pleasure in that, in knowing that he could still do everything he could before in a way that other people _liked_. And when he finished his dance – his spine arched backward with a hand gripping the smooth metal above and below where the pole rested between his legs, knees bent and toes pointed to the ground – he let his eyes fall closed as his lips curved into a smile of complete and utter satisfaction.

He could hear movement and someone saying _‘out’_ as he began to slowly flip out of the position, and he allowed his eyes to stay closed as he leaned back against the pole, his hands still gripping it behind him. It wasn’t quite cool anymore, warmed by his body and the friction from his skin, but it was steadying enough from the dizzy pleasure he still felt and the anticipation that was growing inside him.

And when he opened his eyes, he found that Stark had moved closer, no longer holding a glass but watching Loki with the kind of desire he had _aimed_ to kindle. Loki’s satisfaction deepened, and he didn’t move an inch as he beckoned Stark closer with a smirk.

“That was quite a show,” Stark said, his voice deep in a way that _almost_ made Loki shudder– probably would have, if he hadn’t taken the moment to compose himself beforehand.

As it was, Loki just arched a brow. “Well,” he replied, tone almost impatient. “It _is_ my job.”

Stark laughed at that, short and sharp as if he hadn’t expected such a reply but found challenge in it nonetheless. Loki had half said it to try and keep the distance– he had achieved his goal and proven that he could make Stark want him, after all. But for some reason, Stark’s pleasure at his sharpness only drew him in a little more. Because it was clear that Stark saw _him_ as a challenge as well, and that… well. That was a game near impossible to resist.

Still, Loki didn’t move closer. After all, he was in his element. He relaxed back against the pole and waited. Sure enough, Stark moved in, slowly, as if waiting for Loki to say no. But still Loki just _waited_ until he could feel Stark’s breath on his cheek, his own anticipation rising as his gaze darted to where Stark’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips.

“Job or not, I haven’t seen anyone move like you before,” Stark said, leaning closer still, their noses almost touching.

“Hmm, perhaps I did put a little extra effort into it,” Loki allowed, tilting his head so his lips brushed Tony’s for a fraction of a moment before leaning back once more.

Loki’s smirk deepened as he added, “It would have been a shame to let such a pole go to waste.”

“It’s never looked as good as it did with you on it.”

“You’re flattering me,” Loki replied, raising his brows once more. “What are you hoping to gain in return, Mr Stark?”

“Oh, I have a few things in mind– but please, call me Tony.” Stark leaned down and touched his lips to Loki’s again– just briefly, before pausing and glancing back up to meet Loki’s gaze questioningly. “If that’s okay?” he checked.

And Loki knew what he was doing– in any normal scenario, this would be crossing a line. Stark – Tony – was by all _appearances_ his employer, but this situation was only meant to last the once. From the way that Tony was still hesitantly checking despite his outward confidence, Loki took the impression that this wasn’t something he did often– but the desire in his gaze hid something else Loki was struggling to read. Perhaps there was more to Stark’s habits than mere cessation of boredom. He truly was a puzzle, and Loki knew he still wanted to figure the rest of him out.

And the clock, after all, was still ticking.

So, rather than giving a verbal answer, Loki leaned down and kissed Tony with a violence that left no doubt as to his willingness. Tony was pressing him into the pole in moments, kissing him back vigorously, one hand burying into Loki’s hair as the other slid down over Loki’s bare chest.

But Loki wasn’t one to allow himself to be pushed around– so he shoved at Tony’s chest, pushing him back with enough strength that they separated entirely. Tony grinned wolfishly, and went to move closer again– but Loki beat him to it, darting forward for another harsh kiss and using the distraction to push Tony back again until his legs hit the couch he had been lounging upon earlier.

Once Tony was down it was an easy matter for Loki to slide onto his lap, hands already going for the buttons on Tony’s shirt. Tony’s hands were raking firmly up and down Loki’s sides, shifting the straps at Loki’s waist with every stroke. Loki ground down with his hips in return, and grinned against Tony’s mouth as the other man growled.

The shirt was quickly torn away and Tony seemed to take pleasure in peeling the snug straps from Loki’s skin, leaning down as best as he could reach to press open-mouthed kisses to Loki’s stomach as he did so. Those kisses moved even further down until they came torturously close to the hard bulge in Loki’s shorts– then Loki tugged at Tony’s hair and pulled him back up, assaulting his mouth once again as he rubbed at Tony’s arousal through his slacks, his movements firm and unyielding. The moment Tony bucked up into his hand he let go, and moved away enough that they could get rid of the remaining material that sat between them– and then he sank down in front of Tony on his knees, and began the delightful task of making Tony _squirm_.

What followed was fast, a brutal flurry of hands and mouths as they got each other off with a shared need for heady pleasure. Loki stayed in control, and Tony seemed to lose himself to it, moaning and cursing with every stroke of Loki’s tongue at his cock or press of fingers over his entrance. Tony gave as good as he got and Loki found it hard to keep a clear head, falling into the sensation of delirium as Tony played his body right to the edge and then sent him careening over.

Loki was half expecting that he would be pushed away when they were done, but once Tony had fetched a wet cloth from the bathroom to wipe them both down, he didn’t seem like he wanted Loki to leave. Instead, Tony chatted_– _more than Loki expected for someone he knew to be as security-conscious as Tony but no less than he was used to. They wrapped themselves in blue blankets that felt far more luxurious than on any airline Loki had seen, and they just _talked_.

And Loki… found himself being drawn in.

He wasn’t entirely sure _what_ it was, to be honest– it wasn’t just the physical attraction, or the way that within a few minutes Loki came to realise that Tony was more intelligent than anyone else he knew.

Really, Tony’s mind was too brilliant to go to waste, and his soul burned brighter than anyone Loki had ever met– and the more he thought about it, the more he realised a single, _terrible_ truth.

Loki didn’t _want_ Tony Stark to die.

It wasn’t something that he’d encountered before, and for the first time, Loki found himself beginning to question his goal, despite all of the consequences of such a thing. The money wasn’t the only problem– he had been paid half upon taking the contract, and while he would give it back without issue… his reputation would be shot, for no one would be willing to hire an assassin who wouldn’t kill his mark. And not only that, but… the man who had hired Loki had been very determined, and willing to pay an incredibly steep price. He wanted Tony _gone_, and if Loki didn’t kill him, then he had no doubts that Stane would be sending someone else.

It was ridiculous, Loki knew that. What, one single orgasm, and all of sudden he was ready to turn his back on everything he knew? No, Loki had never been that shallow– but, perhaps that would be easier to rationalise than the truth. He _tried_ to tell himself that it was just the way Tony’s hands had felt on his body, that there was nothing more to this than the usual post coital high which would fade very soon– and he would go back to normal.

Except… he knew that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t even his own growing fondness for Tony which made him want to stop what he had started. It was regard for Tony as a person, for the potential he saw in that mind and the knowledge of what would be lost should his life be extinguished.

The consequences of letting Tony live were steep.

But… compared to the thought of letting the poison run its course and extinguishing Tony forever? _That _thought made Loki flinch in a way that he never had at the thought of death, and while that scared him a little, it also meant that he knew exactly what he needed to do. 

Loki had the antidote, of course, he would never be so stupid as to carry a deadly poison that he could accidentally kill himself with. But unlike the poison, it wasn’t colourless _nor_ odourless– there was no way that Tony would miss it being slipped into his drink, even if Loki plied him with more alcohol first.

There was only _one way_ that he was going to get Tony to drink it, and Loki recoiled from that almost violently.

Tony, unfortunately, noticed. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

And yes, it _should_ have been the easiest thing to say that he was fine, to continue on as he was, to follow the plan and leave the moment the plane hit the ground. But… for whatever the reason, Loki knew that if he did, he would regret it for longer than he was comfortable with.

So he steeled himself and stood from the couch, and told Tony that he would return in a moment.

The flight attendants giggled as they saw him walk into the crew’s quarters wearing nothing but the blanket he still had wrapped around him, but he paid them no mind and moved straight toward the small bag he had brought on board. Deep in one of the hidden pockets lay a small glass vial filled with a milky-white liquid, and he grasped it in his hand.

Then, he hesitated. He knew he could just stay in the crew quarters with the attendants if he wanted to. Tony wouldn’t follow, he was sure of it– but Loki was no coward. He had made up his mind, and he was going to follow it through.

When he stepped back into the main cabin, Loki found Tony pulling clothes back on. He supposed Tony must have thought that Loki wasn’t coming back– but Tony grinned when he saw that Loki _had_, and stopped his movements. And again, Loki wondered what it was that he had missed.

But he didn’t have the time to ask, and as he stepped forward, he drew in a deep breath.

“Tony, I need you to do something,” he said, deciding to get right down to the quick of it. He held out the vial, letting it roll slightly in his palm before curling his fingers back around it, not wanting to risk dropping it. “I need you to drink this. Now.”

“What is it?” Tony asked. He didn’t sound suspicious, merely curious, but a twitch of muscle around his eye told Loki that wasn’t the whole truth of it. Tony might have let Loki stroke him toward oblivion, but that didn’t mean _trust. _

Loki drew in a breath, and prepared for the worst. “It’s an antidote,” he said.

Tony’s eyes narrowed properly, then, and his arms crossed over his still-bare chest. “An antidote to _what_, exactly?”

“To the poison I gave you,” Loki admitted, lifting his eyes to meet Tony’s. They held each other’s gazes for a moment, Loki waiting, Tony assessing.

Then, remarkably, Tony sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. He turned to sit back on the couch before looking back up to Loki– and when he spoke, his words were slow and quiet. Somehow, he didn’t sound angry at all. “I assume someone paid you.”

“You assume correctly.”

“And you changed your mind?”

“Obviously.”

Tony almost smiled at that. “Okay. What did you give me? I don’t feel any different.”

The fact that Tony wasn’t trying to attack him, nor even yell or shout surely had to be a good sign– so Loki responded quickly. “It was something of my own design,” he said. “It’s slow acting, you won’t even feel the effects of it until tomorrow, and by then I will be long gone. The autopsy won’t even be able to determine the exact time that you were dosed—”

“The _autopsy_,” Tony echoed. “Oh, no matter how used to this I get, _that’s_ weird to think about.”

Loki thought that was a rather odd thing to say, but he focused on the less worrying part of the statement. “If they even bothered to give you one,” he said, deciding that the best course of action was to just be as brutally honest as possible. “The symptoms will look like liver failure, and given your history… there would be very little suspicion.”

“Right, clever,” Tony said. He seemed to consider something for a moment, before reaching out with one arm, his hand tilted sidewards and his palm open flat. Even though Loki was confused by it he knew the gesture could have only one meaning, so he stepped a little closer, the blanket held tight around him in one hand and the vial in the other. To his surprise, Tony put both hands on Loki’s hips and drew him in until Loki was standing between Tony’s legs.

Loki could scarcely breathe as Tony considered him again– and it should still have been _ridiculous_. This man had been under Loki’s control for almost three hours now, and had been _dying_ by his hand for longer than that. Yet… Loki couldn’t help but feel nervous. _Worried_ even.

But when Tony spoke, once again it completely lacked the harshness that Loki was expecting. “You really thought this out, didn’t you?” Tony asked, tilting his head. “That’s kind of flattering, actually.”

Loki frowned. “Of course I did—”

“Let me guess? It’s your job?” Tony was actually _grinning_, as if he’d told a joke.

“Yes,” Loki replied. “I’m one of the best.”

“I suppose I should feel special then, that it was _me_ you decided to spare.”

Tony was calm– _much_ too calm, and Loki felt like he couldn’t trust it.

“Why are you doing this?” Loki asked. “By all rights you should be calling your other staff back in here to restrain me—”

“Are you going to try and kill me again?” Tony asked.

Loki paused, suddenly feeling a little bewildered. “No,” he said. “I believe that if I were, giving you the antidote would be rather counterintuitive.”

“Then what would be the point?”

“That’s not– I tried to _kill you—” _

“Plenty of people have tried to kill me before,” Tony said, his hand starting to gently stroke where it still rested on Loki’s waist, shifting the material of the blanket. “You’re the only one who’s ever stopped.” His eyes were dark as he tilted up his chin, and Loki’s mouth went dry as Tony whispered, “In a way, I suppose that makes _you_ the special one.”

“You’re not… afraid?” Loki asked– wanting, _needing_ to make that final check.

“Maybe a little,” Tony admitted. “But… don’t you think that’s half the fun?”

He tugged at Loki again then, and this time, Loki didn’t fight it. He leaned down and let Tony pull him into a kiss, their mouths sliding back together with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible, the sounds of their growing desire swallowed up by the merciless assault of their lips and tongues. It was only when Loki was back in Tony’s lap, his legs either side of Tony’s waist that they finally broke the kiss.

Loki lifted the vial he still held. “You _do_ need to take this,” he said. “I may have changed my mind, but that means nothing until you’ve had the antidote.”

“How do I know that’s not poison as well?” Tony asked, and although his tone was almost _teasing_, there was a seriousness to his gaze that Loki knew better than to dismiss.

So Loki unscrewed the cap and held the vial to his lips– and then, holding Tony’s gaze, he took a small sip of the white liquid and swallowed.

Tony’s eyes cleared. “How much do I need to cure me?” he asked.

“Just a drop,” Loki said, screwing the lid back on the vial before holding it out once again. “Though I would advise you to take more. The antidote will not harm you, but if you do not take enough—”

Before Loki could finish his sentence, Tony was darting forward to kiss Loki again, licking along the seam of his mouth before pressing his tongue inside. He kissed like he was dying, like Loki’s mouth was the key to his survival– and the goddamn _truth_ of that was enough to make Loki moan. He clutched Tony closer against him before pushing him down on the couch, until Tony was lying horizontal with Loki pressed over him. Loki used the fist still holding the vial to brace himself while he moved the other down to tease at the bulge in Tony’s pants, his fingers playing at the material just enough to make Tony whine and try to buck up into Loki’s hand.

The power Loki felt was pure ecstasy, and as he leaned in for another bruising kiss, he pulled his hand away and ground down with his hips instead, their groans mingling and the kiss turning messy as their arousals pressed together—

Then the plane lurched, and Loki lost his balance. He fell first on top of Tony who pushed him away– and then they both rolled onto the floor.

A voice came over the speaker – “_Apologies, Mr Stark, it would appear that we have hit some turbulence—” _– but neither of them paid it any notice. They were too busy fighting each other for control, Loki struggling to regain the sense of power he had so suddenly lost. The plane continued to jerk and roll and they rolled with it, hands grappling and bodies tangling. But Loki was all too aware of what he still held, and he was at a slight disadvantage because of it– and it was Tony who ended up on top in the end, his legs straddling Loki’s waist, one hand pressing hard against the centre of Loki’s chest.

“Now,” Tony said, his voice low and almost close to a growl. “I believe this is mine.”

Tony leaned forward and used his free hand to prise the vial from Loki’s fingers. He unscrewed the lid with his thumb and downed the rest of the antidote before tossing the empty vial aside– and then he surged down to crash their lips back together. Loki could taste the sourness on Tony’s lips but he didn’t care, responding with all the resistance he could muster while still enjoying every moment with immense pleasure.

He raked his nails over Tony’s back before trying again to shove at his shoulders. But then he felt Tony’s hand slide between them and curl around the base of his cock, warm and firm and stroking upward to rub a thumb over the head– and then Loki’s shoving turned into attempts to urge Tony into _more_. Oh, he was still fighting, he was still giving all he had, but his determination changed from wanting to be on top to just– wanting Tony to give him everything. Loki’s blanket was long since gone, and Tony was _everywhere_– pressing down over Loki’s chest, one hand on Loki’s cock, the other buried in Loki’s hair while his elbow kept him upright.

It wasn’t long before Loki’s breaths were coming in desperate pants. He was so far gone he did not even see where Tony retrieved the lube from, only realised it was there when he felt Tony’s fingers pressing against his entrance for half a moment before pushing all the way in, two at once.

“Fuck,” Loki said, throwing his head back against the floor.

“Oh, not _yet_,” Tony crooned, holding Loki’s gaze as he slid further down his body. “But I’ll get there.”

It was sweet torture as Tony’s mouth lavished the inside of Loki’s thighs, going so very close to his aching cock but just not close _enough_. All the while he continued to work his fingers inside Loki’s entrance, curling and stroking until the only sound Loki could make were wanton whines and desperate curses. He felt like he was nearing a terrible edge, like a tension was building up inside him that _begged_ to be let go– that ached and groaned and cried out for release—

And right when everything was about to come crashing down, Tony’s mouth moved away and his fingers slid out from inside him. Loki thought he swore, but it more than likely only came out as a groan– he couldn’t tell, he only really knew that he needed _more_.

Maybe, as it turned out, giving over control was some kind of high as well.

Tony took his time arranging Loki how he wanted, moving his legs up until they rested on Tony’s shoulders, making use of that flexibility Loki had put on show for him what felt like a lifetime ago. Tony seemed to consider him for a moment then, his eyes raking over Loki’s body as if he were splayed out just for him. It was then that Loki realised Tony still had not entirely removed his trousers– that despite the way he had worked Loki right to the edge of falling apart, he was still half clothed.

Not so long ago such a thing would have rankled him, but Loki rather enjoyed the sight of Tony unbuttoning them himself, pushing them down off his hips but not bothering to remove them entirely, as if – despite his own exaggerated, torturous slowness – he was too impatient for anything else. Once Tony’s cock was finally free and he had rolled on a condom that must have come from the same place as the lube, he positioned himself and pressed the head against Loki’s entrance. Loki tried to buck into it, the gentle sensation a torment– and then he paused, half expecting Tony would back away again. It came as a surprise then when Tony pressed forward instead, sliding into Loki with a dreadfully _gradual_ push.

Tony’s lips parted and his eyes almost closed, as if he were fighting to keep them open. But keep them open he did, and he met Loki’s pleading gaze with twisted smirk. Loki whimpered and reached up to clutch at Tony’s shoulders as Tony pulled out and then pushed back in, still moving so _fucking slowly_ that Loki arched his spine and snapped up with his hips, forcing Tony deeper inside him. Tony growled at that, and then he kissed Loki brutally as he pulled out once more. Loki parted his lips, wanting to feel the slide of Tony’s tongue against his own, a sensation that he already couldn’t get enough of—

But then Tony’s mouth moved away, and Loki drew in a laboured gasp as one of Tony’s hands curled tight around Loki’s throat.

And although his breath came in pants as he spoke out his threat, not _once_ did Tony stop moving. “If you ever try to kill me again,” he said harshly, “I will make you wish you had never been born, do you understand?”

“I understand,” Loki gasped, still trying to press up to pull more of Tony inside him, to make him move _faster_—

And then Tony’s fingers were gone from Loki’s throat, both hands bracing against the ground as he began to _finally_ fuck Loki properly, as if Loki’s acceptance was all he had been waiting for before letting go entirely.

Loki soon lost all sense as Tony’s thrusts picked up the pace, folding Loki near in half as he fucked him into the floor, the burn of the carpet at Loki’s back only heightening the sensations of pleasure he was feeling. Tony pressed so close against him as he leaned down that there was no space between them, burying his face into the curve of Loki’s shoulder. Loki felt the scrape of teeth at his throat—

And then he was lost, his legs shuddering against Tony’s shoulders as his cock jerked between their bodies, slicking their skin as Tony thrust into him a few more times before coming himself with a groan and a full body shudder.

Looking exhausted, Tony slid out and rolled off him– and they both lay on the ground side by side, fighting to catch their breath. Loki’s whole body burned, the skin on his back red hot and his thighs aching from the strain.

It was some minutes before either of them spoke again– and this time, the lack of hostility in Tony’s tone seemed natural. Perhaps that was because something had passed between them in their moment of intimacy, when Tony had demanded an understanding that Loki had so easily given.

“When we land, you’re going to tell me who hired you,” Tony said, speaking into the silence. “And then you’re going to take me out for a fucking coffee.”

Loki turned his head, arching an incredulous brow. “Oh, am I?” he asked.

Tony propped his head on his hand and matched Loki’s expression. “Unless you don’t want to?”

And Loki, somewhat unsurprisingly, realised that he _did_. “Only if we go somewhere nice,” he said.

“Good,” Tony replied, lying back down. “I deserve it after the day you’ve given me.”

Loki snorted at that, having long since learned that Tony truly wasn’t angry about it. He believed Loki when he said he wouldn’t do it again, and… well. Even if Loki had some kind of nefarious plan, that alone might have been enough to stop it. He wasn’t used to being trusted, certainly not just like that– and in that moment, he knew that it wasn’t a normal thing for Tony to do, either.

It was something he had realised as he pieced together everything that had happened on that flight, right from the very start. Tony wasn’t just bored in his life– he was _lonely_, and no wonder with the way he had to be so careful. But in offering Tony that antidote, Loki had done more than save his life– he had given Tony a chance at a freedom that he hadn’t seen before, a chance for _vengeance_ that he would ordinarily be denied.

Loki suspected that the next few weeks of Tony’s life were going to be mightily exciting indeed, and Loki found himself wanting to be a part of it. That wasn’t even all that surprising, anymore.

Loki found himself staring at Tony, his gaze caressing the lines of his body, dancing over the marks Loki had left on his skin and lingering on the smile that lifted the corners of his lips. It was almost hopeful, that smile, and Loki knew that it matched his own.

The tension between them had been released, and all that was left was pure _potential_ for something new.

And from the way Tony was staring right back, Loki thought that maybe he saw it the same way.

“I do want to thank you properly,” Tony said, still wearing that hopeful smile. “But I’ve realised… I don’t even know your name.”

Loki sat up then, and Tony mirrored the action, waiting patiently. It was clear that Tony understood the significance of what he had just asked, and the alias Loki had used to get onto the plane paused on the tip of his tongue. There was no point in that now– he hadn’t killed anyone to _need_ an alias, and Tony already knew _who_ he was.

He felt his lips curving into a real smile, and he held out his hand as he gave his truthful answer.

“I’m Loki.”

And when Tony not only accepted the handshake but kept his hand curled around Loki’s afterward, Loki felt like he had just taken a contract which was far more dangerous than any of his others– and certainly far more exciting.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the art for this fic on tumblr [here.](https://rabentochter.tumblr.com/post/187962729699/art-for-a-contract-is-only-as-good-as-the-price)


End file.
